


Crave You (Jeremy/Reader)

by In_Wolfs_Clothing



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: F/M, Fanfiction, Horror, M/M, Reader Insert, Romance, fnaf - Freeform, nightguard - Freeform, rebornica, x Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-01-14 17:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18480511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Wolfs_Clothing/pseuds/In_Wolfs_Clothing
Summary: {Jeremy Fitzgerald x Reader} [Slight Rebornica AU] "Why can't you want me like the other boys do?"





	1. Chapter 1

You were different, that much was obvious.

Ever since you were young, it seemed people just happened to be drawn to you, whether that be an elderly, all-business teacher treating you with more patience than the rest, or the little kindergarten boys falling head over heels for you each and every day.

You had a talent with softening people, although you didn't try. A few of your hundreds of teenage friends mentioned the way you practically dazzled anyone you smiled or simply looked at, and your parents often got part of their check free when you accidentally sucked up to the waiter.

It was pretty unbelievable, and you honestly didn't dare to listen to any of those remarks, fearing you may someday fall in a trap of selfishness and greed. 

But, even with your awe inducing personality and looks, your family was only middle-class. You often wore hand-me-downs with your own touch ups and shoes that you had worn three years before. Some days you couldn't afford buying groceries, settling with the beginning-to-rot leftovers or a bag of stale chips.

It honestly wasn't as bad as it sounded, for you still had necessities and a real nice phone, but life was getting harder as the days past. That's when you decided a change was in order. 

Your mother was rather distressed upon hearing you dropped out of your after-school book club (gosh, you loved reading), but you quickly explained to her it was to help the family. 

"I know we're running low on just about everything, and your having trouble paying the bills. So, I figured, why not get a part-time job and help out," you had said with your usual cheery tone. In the background, you could see a small, loving smile forming on your father's face as he shook his head in slight disbelief. 

Of course, at the time you were way ahead of yourself, not having any idea where you might wind up being an employee. But with your apparent spellbinding motions, you figured it wouldn't be terribly hard.

And it wasn't.

Within a week of searching two articles a day, you pointed your finger on a small clipping, dialed the number, and was speedily rushed through a process of listing things that would be useful for the work process.

The boss, at first, sounded a bit gruff and impatient but by the time you were hanging up, his tone had changed completely. You could've easily mistaken him for a man in his mid-twenties with the light-heartedness and enthusiasm in his voice if you hadn't heard it any other way. 

Ending the call with an order to visit the workplace on Saturday, you almost squealed in delight, a skip in your heartbeat as you swiveled your bar stool around to face your father who sat silently in the living room, a brow raised. You feverishly wandered over to him and pulled him up into a hug, lightly swinging him around before letting a "I got the job" slip out of your mouth. Chuckling, he returned your embrace with a one-word question. "Where?" 

But you couldn't answer, too elated to even pay attention as you pried away from him and ran to the laundry room where your mother was folding clothes. She looked up at you, a bit frightened until she saw your face-splitting grin. As if on instinct, she already seemed to know what had happened (or maybe she had heard you with your father) and held open her arms. You plowed into her and tightly wrapped your arms around her torso, giggling like a small toddler. Again, the question was repeated. "Where?" 

Pulling away, your curled lips never faltered except to mouth the name. "Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria." 

Again, filled with too much excitement, you did a small victory dance and sprinted to your room down the hall to text your friends of this news, never noticing the expression of horror that began to creep upon your mother's usually beautiful features.

Nothing could ruin your day, now. But the same couldn't be said about the next few.


	2. Chapter 2

The children were giggling. Even as they ran about and danced tirelessly, they still managed to find the oxygen to express their delightment. You almost envied them for that, but didn't delve too deep with it, returning to readjusting your apron that you may have tied just a little too tight.

 

"Miss?" a small voice chimed as you felt a tug on the hems of your shirt.

 

Pulling on a smile, you looked down then went into a crouch to match the height of the child who had interrupted your previous task. "Hey, gal," you greeted in your normally soft voice, tugging down on the hat with bear ears the girl wore.

 

She giggled slightly, tilting her headgear back in place to gaze at you with shining eyes. "Are you Cinderella?"

 

Laughing at this, you rested an arm on your knee, shaking your head. "No, sadly, I'm not."

 

She shot you a small, disappointed look before mouthing an "oh" and wandering back to one of the dining areas. You blinked, slightly confused before running your fingers through your (h/c) locks, pushing a few strands that had escaped your ponytail back.

 

Standing straight, you swiveled on your heel only to gasp in surprise and fall harshly against the wall behind you. Why? Well, there was now a man, hovering before you at least only a foot's distance away. Muttering some unintelligible thing, you placed a hand over your chest, eyebrows furrowing as you noticed the man's unusually ashy skin tone, a single question mark present instead of eyes or a nose. Well, it was that specific symbol until it quickly contorted into an exclamation mark. His mouth, the only facial feature truly present, fell open a bit, curling down at the edges as if he had been surprised just as much as you.

 

"M-My apologies," he spluttered out before stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, hunching his back and hanging his head while he proceeded to rush down the checkered hall.

 

Finally, catching your breath, you were sure your face had turned a deep shade of purple before blood started flowing again. Feeling your heart still racing beneath your palm, you slowly slid down the wall, placing your head between your knees as you struggled to calm yourself.

 

Oh, what a wonderful start to the evening.


	3. Chapter 3

Your first day, Saturday, had obviously been a piece of cake besides the constant interruptions with children and that one incident with the questionable man.

 

Hah, see what I did there?

 

Anyways, just upon your arrival in his office, the boss had seemed to light up, his slightly wrinkled face being graced with a wondrous grin. You didn't think that someone who had looked so stressed and worn only seconds prior could transform into someone so.. different. 

 

Then again... 

 

You didn't dare reflect back and agree on your friend's and relative's words of practical hypnosis; it would be foolish. But back to the subject, you had bounced subtly, impatiently on the chair in front of his desk, hoping the enthusiastic attitude meant good news. 

 

And it did.

 

You were hired as an evening waitress, also taking the second-hand job to clean up a bit after closing times, though someone.. purple?.. would supposedly be helping you. 

 

The de-fouling part of your first day on the job left you with no extra hands, making you wonder if your boss had been joking, or the employee just decided he didn't want to show up. 

 

While you scrubbed the tables, you concluded that upon hearing about the new face, the worker must have thought his absence would slip under the radar. It was smart, you'll admit it; like a newbie would ever think anything of a minor change in plans.

 

You started the second time that day upon hearing a small voice start to speak. "Hey, uh..," was its exact words. As the fear began untwisting your gut, you whipped your head to glare accusingly up at the animatronics on stage, but found them all still; frozen in odd potions.

 

"You.. you should probably leave sometime soon..."

 

With that being heard, you easily located the voice, looking towards the dining hall's entrance and seeing the same man who had startled you earlier. Why is he still here?

 

As he hesitantly raised a hand and waved it from side to side as if to refocus your attention on him, you caught a glint of light reflect from the golden badge pinned on his navy blue garment. Security, of course. Blinking, you flashed him a small, polite smile and nodded, watching his actions another few moments before returning to your wiping, which was rushed now.

 

You felt an odd twinge of hurt when you noticed he never smiled back, or blushed, or anything. He was completely immune to your advances that seemed to be able to break down even a fierce lion, clomping rhythmically back down the hall to what you supposed was his work space as if it had been a normal encounter.

 

Or maybe he was blind. That question mark on his face did take the place of his eyes. It was an easy assumption to come across. Though, he had no trouble getting around or seemingly looking straight at you...

 

Whatever the reason, you felt sick knowing you actually cared when someone didn't.. change for you. To think you had always been ignoring the repetitive, flattering comments was out of the schedule now. 

 

And with a final acceptance, you tilted your nose upwards and threw your dirtied rag in the mop bucket as you walked past the kitchen. If he didn't want to respond with the standard luminescence upon being greeted with your impossibly irresistible motions, so be it.

 

He would crack at some point. And you were determined to make that point very, very soon.


	4. Chapter 4

"He seems like a jerk."

 

You picked at the food on your lunch tray, sighing as your peaches became nothing but mush beneath your fork. You were pretty sure that wasn't normal. "I don't know," you shrugged, dropping the silverware and looking up at your friend, Erin. "I mean, how should I know? He just scared me out of my wits twice, it's not like we've actually talked."

 

A grin formed on the female's face and she picked up your forgotten eating utensil, swinging it around as she let all her ideas flow. "So, there's your problem! Maybe you need to converse, flirt. That will get his hormones a-flowin'."

 

Your eyebrows scrunched together and you retrieved your fork, indignantly dropping it on your tray. "Gross," was your only response as you slowly shuffled out of your seat at a lunch table.

 

"Oh, c'mon! As if you've never thought about it."

 

"I don't even know how old he is, you creep!" your voice had lowered to a harsh whisper, trying not to attract attention. That was obviously hard, being how you were.

 

"Well, how old does he look?"

 

".. Young. But still!" You glanced warily around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Guesses don't justify!"

 

Your friend waved their hand like a white flag, huffing in defeat. But, they took one last shot. "Maybe you should just ask him." Bang.

 

Your eyes widened and you scoffed. "As if!" You secretly thought it was a pretty good idea, even there weren't many of the expected complexities.

 

Just then you were bumped into by the regular stereotyped jock, and by instinct pushed your tray farther from your own body, that peachy mush instead getting on the male's shirt and trousers than the regular routine of yours. Nobody would be wiping food off your blouse today.

 

Said jock's expression turned a bit surprised and he blinked a bit before blankly looking up at you, chuckling. "Guess you'll have to make it up to me by --"

 

"Screw. Off," you growled, carelessly dropping the rest of the foody contents on his shoes. Oh, you were so not in the mood for hormonal teenagers.

 

Ignoring the angry look that grew on the male's features, you began to stomp off, Erin quickly catching up and latching arms with you, skipping along with your heavy strides. It irked you a bit, but you didn't push her off.

 

"So, when you gonna ask 'em?" 

 

You stopped short, ripping your arm from the girl's. "Excuse you?"

 

"Let's face it, it's going to happen at some point. Unless you steal some of the work files. Hey! I can actually help with that~"

 

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms and continued walking across the courtyard, heading for the school's front doors.

 

"So?" Erin inquired simply as she caught up with you.

 

"It'll happen if it wants to," you muttered between your clenched teeth. 

 

"If it wants to?" Your friend seemed hysterical now, disbelieving. "Since when are you in good terms with fate?"

 

"Since everybody started loving me."

 

"Oh, ha ha. Funny." 

 

Sighing, you shook your head lightly, letting locks of (h/c) fall in your face to hide your sudden guilt at the grouchy attitude. "Sorry, I just.. I started a job and I'm already worrying about getting a coworker to like me? It seems ridiculous now."

 

Erin smirked, arms crossing. "But you won't give up on it, will you?"

 

Tilting your head up, you mimicked her smile. "Nope."


	5. Chapter 5

Ever since your age reached the double digits, you had been quite the creative person; enthusiastic for English essays and elated for art projects. Not long before, you had transferred your skills over into painting, liking the relaxation of it all, knowing that if you messed up it could easily be fixed. 

 

And on your second day of work, a Tuesday evening, you had been wandering when things started shutting down, just before you took up the task of cleaning. Soon you had slid into the "Kid's Cove", a bit confused upon seeing a pile of entangled mechanical limbs and wires, a stray white, pink, and red foxlike head lost in the mess. You supposed the colors were friendly enough, but the whole thing just creeped you out, although gripping your curiosity. Of course, you wandered near it, watching it cautiously as you approached, afraid if you blinked it would contort and start running for you. But it didn't, and only a few feet away a crackling and static filled your ears, obviously emitting from the pile of parts.

 

Your nose scrunched in confusion as you heard a barely audible "10-1" slip through the static, crouching down and tilting your head as you surveyed this animatronic closely. Knowing a bit about the police ten codes, you pursed your lips before muttering a hesitant, "10-9".

 

"10-1," came the crackling answer once more. 

 

Smiling now, you fell back onto your bottom and crisscrossed your legs. "10-4," you chimed, your cheery tone back in place. At this, the static slowly faded and you felt a twinge of fear when the head's single eye began closing. After feeling paralyzed for a few moments, you relaxed, reaching out to touch the only visible part of a normal animatronic suit (besides the hands and one foot). 

 

Your fingertips brushed lightly against its forehead and froze, awaiting some reaction, but soon continuing when nothing was given. You traced the outlines of its eyes, circled the snout, and then ran along the ears, almost feeling pity for the un-living thing. The white paint was chipping beneath your fingers, the rest of its mechanical body rusting from misuse and age. Reeling your hand back at last, you placed it in your lap before an idea popped in your thoughts. 

 

You had seen a door labeled "Parts/Service" on your venture, hoping that possibly you could find the missing pieces to this.. odd animatronic; you hated seeing it lie around like this, concerned for the children that merely accepted its deformation. Remembering the many paint cans that littered your home's garage, you knew the revamp plan could easily be set into motion.. with permission. Perhaps you could ask the boss if it was possible to liven up this pitiful pile of metal and wires over your weekend shift.

 

Resting your cheek on your fist, you sighed happily at the fox head, dubbing it "Valentine" silently, before reaching towards it again.

 

This time, you were interrupted by the eye suddenly opening, static again filling your hearing as an unnoticed part slowly raised from the base of the head's neck. Shuffling backwards, you surveyed this new bit, guessing it was the head's endoskeleton as one eye, the missing eye, was attached above a pair of metal teeth.

 

"Hangin' out with Mangle, are yah?" An unfamiliar voice echoed throughout the practically empty room.

 

"10-29," was Valentine's crackling response to the intruder as you looked over your shoulder.

 

"10-12," you mumbled, eyeing the unknown male with a bit of shock. If this was your supposed "extra hands" Boss wasn't joking, as the man was literally purple. Not just his full uniform, but his skin, too. The cold color seemingly brought out his glowing white orbs for eyes, along with the wide-set grin. The air filled with a sudden chill as you wobbled into a stand.

 

"10-101," Valentine inquired with the monotone, barely audible electronic voice.

 

"10-106," you grumbled now, the helper's grin faltering.

 

"What, you an officer or something?" he asked, clearly cautious.

 

You smiled, trying to lighten the atmosphere. He smiled back, yet you couldn't tell if that was his normal response. "No, just got bored at the library."

 

He really seemed to grow comfortable again, shoulders slouching, that certain grin growing lazy as his eyes fell half-lidded. "Say, has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful smi--"

 

"Too many," you intercepted, glancing back at Valentine and muttering a "10-97" to keep them busy. It worked and you easily brushed past the purple man, heading straight for the kitchen to grab the cleaning supplies.

 

As you kicked open the door lightly upon retrieving said supplies, you gasped and stumbled a bit upon seeing the male only inches from the doorway. "So you have a lot of admirers, then?" he questioned mindlessly, still grinning. You wondered if he was secretly a lunatic. Maybe a sociopath, you decided.

 

"Sure, I guess," you replied, voice wavering as you lightly pushed past the male again.

 

He chuckled, "I'm not surprised."

 

"I hear that a lot, too," you grumbled, throwing a glance at the purple man, who was now following you to the dining halls. "And they always are."

 

"Are what?"

 

"Surprised."

 

Another dark chuckle. You repressed a shiver that threatened to travel down your spine; it would be impolite.

 

"Well, you do have a certain air about you," he commented like he said the same sentence every day. He probably did.

 

"That means?"

 

"You're special."

 

"Uh huh, that's not new either."

 

He seemed incredulous, eyes narrowing in confusion. He decided to begin listing, "Lovely? Gorgeous? Dazzling?" He hesitated, and you knew he was speculating your age. "Sexy?"

 

All the way, you had set the mop bucket down, counting off your fingers before snapping them and pointing your index at the male. "Bingo, haven't gotten that yet."

 

Disbelieving, again. "Well then, I think --"

 

"It was a joke," you laughed, actually having a bit of fun, dipping your hands in the murky water to locate a drenched rag.

 

Finding one, you scrunched all of the water out as a small "Ah.." sounded from the male. Irked, you looked back at him and raised a free hand. "You going to help?"

 

There was silence, and you heard the front doors unlocking before the screeching of one opening and closing rang throughout the pizzeria. The purple man smirked. "Nope," he said before practically gliding out of the dining area.

 

You rolled your eyes, slapping the wash rag against a stained table and listening to a distant, one-sided conversation. What you thought was a name caught your sound waves. Jerry? Jeremiah? Jerome? Something along those lines. 

 

Shrugging to yourself, you went back to work, eager to escape and return home, as Erin would be awaiting to hear all the news. You knew she wanted some success story with Question-Face, but all you would be able to give her was the tale of Valentine and how you would be hoping to repair them. Even as the familiar grey skin, pastel and navy uniform came into sight, trudging with his head down alongside the purple guy, you knew you didn't dare ask any questions.

 

Not today, at least. And a "not ever" flashed briefly in your thoughts, but you shook it away. You'd get him to talk someday, and then he would fall helplessly, unconditionally in love with you, as did everyone else. You would make him crave you.

 

Smirking at the thought, you went about your last task with a bit more enthusiasm.


	6. Chapter 6

A week later, children of all ages in the pizzeria gathered around Kid's Cove on an early Sunday morning just to curiously watch you paint the porcelain-like plastic with calming colors of fuchsia and snow while sitting on a newly installed wooden stage with a bare endoskeleton. You would, at random times, hear compliments about your work or looks from parents and kids alike, all the while taking but a second to look up from your brush and send a thankful smile. It seemed even the drunkards, abusers, and addicts that filtered in the restaurant took a moment to breathe when your eyes met with their's. At one point, you saw your boss standing in one corner, arms and ankles crossed as he leaned against a wall and smiled, seemingly glad he let you come in to fix what he had called "a waste of time".

Glancing at the watch on your right wrist, you laughed at the small splatters of paint that covered it then saw the time was half past noon. Sighing, you dropped your brush in a glass of water and carefully rotated the empty, animatronic head to make sure there were no smudges, clumps, or running paint before setting it near the then fully dressed mechanical skeleton.

Standing up, you wiped your hands on your apron before clapping them together and grinning towards the crowd. But then, even with all the attention you got outside of the workplace, standing in front of a crowd made your whole body begin to shake. Your head grew light and so you turned desperately towards your boss, beckoning him with a lightly spasming hand to come up on the stage. And once he was there and quietly excused you, you took rushed steps off the stage, through the crowd, and finally into the kitchen. 

After removing your apron, you headed to a near sink, scrubbing off white and pink stains as you heard the doors open and slam closed behind your shoulder. Not a minute later, the familiar purple grape of a man (who you had come to know as Vincent) skid into view, almost recklessly crashing into the wall trying to get to you. You raised a brow while turning your head to acknowledge him, only receiving the usual grin.

"You're here early," he commented, arms crossing on the metal of the sink.

Your eyes flickered back to the water, nodding your head slightly. "As are you."

"Duty calls," he chuckled. That deep, dark chuckle that still made you want to cower in fear. But you refused to. "So, I saw you caught quite the crowd back there..?"

Snorting, your shoulders shrugged, a smile crossing your face. "Stalker, much?"

"It's impossible to resist getting at least a glimpse of your pretty face all the time. I still wonder how I live without it on your off days.."

You were wondering when the flirting would start up again, guess that answered your inquiry.

"Sorry, I prefer pink," you joked.

The smug smirk dissipated from his face, and a forced, sarcastic laugh slipped from between his lips. "How hilarious," he spat. "And I would've guessed you liked blue."

Your eyebrows furrowed and you shut off the sink, grabbing a towel before swiveling towards your cleaning companion. "Excuse you?"

He lifted two fingers up to his left, glowing eye, another grin spreading on his face. "You got an eye for that Jeremy kid. I've seen it."

Still confused, you wiped your hands on the rag, shaking your head side-to-side. "English, please?" You paused. "Who's Jeremy?"

Vincent seemed incredulous, laughing quietly to himself before continuing, "You surprise me everyday, (Y/N)."

"Save the compliments and answer my question," you grumbled, flipping the towel over your shoulder prior to crossing your arms.

"You know. Jeremy. Nightguard. Has a question mark on his face. Shy type."

A silent "oh" formed on your lips at the realization before they pursed and your nose scrunched. "What does he have to do with the color blue?"

Vincent groaned and pushed himself away from the sink to pinch the bridge of his nose. "You have the beauty, but you do not have the smarts," he grumbled beneath his breath. A growl and protest rumbled in your throat, but he cut you off. "His uniform is blue."

You laughed awkwardly, remembering how you noticed that on the first day you ran into him. "Right," you said, taking the towel on your shoulder and instead placing it on the edge of the sink.

"So, you ever going to talk to him?"

Narrowing your eyes, your gaze flicked up to Vincent, frozen for a moment. You eyed him carefully before shrugging. "I may attract people, but I'm a horrible conversation starter."

That usual, lazy grin grew impossibly wider on the purple man's face and he tilted his chin up, seeming confident. "I can help with that."

Oh, how you wished you had never said anything at all.


End file.
